


Careful what you wish for

by Fnorpan



Series: An altmer's struggles across Skyrim - Female altmer Dovahkiin [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Sex, Smut, fluff with a twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 17:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8023219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fnorpan/pseuds/Fnorpan
Summary: A racist braggard of a Stormcloak soldier gets himself in trouble with Iniethe. Ralof manages to both deflect the soldiers impending death and also gets a long time wish. He should be happy right?
Iniethe grows tired of the Stormcloak soldiers gossiping like old ladies and does something about it.





	Careful what you wish for

”You don’t want to call her that...” Ralof said sternly, nervously looking towards the tent he knew the elf plaguing his dreams where currently residing in.

“Don’t call her what? Easy?” The soldier scoffed in arrogance as he took another swig of his mead.

This would only end one way, of that Ralof was certain. The elf wasn’t exactly known for her forgiving nature. She was ruthless, calculating and had zero tolerance for idiots. Granted she didn’t often even bother with the likes of the intoxicated soldier in front of him that was now fearlessly telling the camp just what he thought of the Thalmor witch residing just a few steps away. But there was this little matter of her blowing off the handle at the very insinuation that she belonged to the circle that most her brethren did.

“Thalmor, don’t call her that. It’ll get you as dead as the imperials in Fort Hraggstad.” Ralof warned bitterly but to his annoyance he was only met by a rambunctious laugh that seemed to infect the rest of the soldiers.

“Did you hear she actually slept with that Justicar in Markarth? I bet she was just heartbroken when he was assassinated!” Another round of boisterous laughter erupted around the campfire and Ralof felt his skin crawl. He and the few soldiers who knew the real truth about Iniethe and that incident, they all seemed to curl in on themselves as they scooted further away from the disaster waiting to happen. None of them wanted the ire of the altmer in their midst and all that could entail.

“Well someone’s gotta comfort the poor little wench and I say it’s high time she gets a real man between those loose legs of hers!” the man bragged confidently after downing the last of the mead in his bottle and throwing it in the heap by the fire.

Laughter erupted as the man stood to make his way towards the elfs tent. Some soldiers eagerly cheered him on while others shook their heads and shunned him like he bore a plague. Ralof sighed bitterly. Sometimes he was utterly ashamed of his kinsmen and their narrowmindedness against outsiders. This man was going to pay for his indiscretion if he knew Iniethe right, the question only was with how much.

There was rustle behind him as the soldier reached Iniethe’s tent and Ralof could actually feel the anger radiating from inside. She was going to kill him, he was certain. Otherwise she would have stalked outside and pummeled the idiot into the ground before storming away in a fit of rage befitting of Mehrunes Dagon himself.

_“May the gods have mercy on his soul…”_ Ralof prayed silently while he got up to try and stifle the impending carnage of the tactless soldier.

He heard the degrading clucking of the soldier as he pulled at the tent flap. He noticed the dead silence that bode ill and hurried his steps enough to just barely be able to grab the man by the collar before he disappeared completely into the tent.

“Don’t… For the love of Talos get a hold on yourself. You have _no_ idea what you are playing with here…” Ralof tried to argue to reach the soldier.

“What? You want that Thalmor bitch for yourself?” the soldier scoffed patronizingly but any further argument was cut off by the appearance of a half-dressed altmer stepping out of the shadows.

“Ralof, its ok.” the deceptively sweet and calm words out of the elfs mouth sent shivers down Ralof’s spine. This was bad, really, _really_ bad!

The soldier only smirked triumphantly as he raked his filthy gaze over the altmer’s visible curves. She seemed so small and harmless out of her armor but Ralof knew better. Not to mention he could see the fury burning behind those silver eyes of hers.

“Iniethe…” Ralof tried but she just shushed him sweetly.

“I don’t mind showing him what happened between me and that Thalmor Justicar.” she continued, flashing an alluring smile towards the intoxicated soldier

“Every. Last. Gory. Detail…” she purred as she stalked closer to the soldier.

By now even the formerly cocky soldier had begun to sense the gravity of the situation and was squirming where he stood. Ralof was beginning to panic. He knew the soldier had crossed the line but he also knew that killing your own was frowned upon. It didn’t matter if you were the illustrious Dragonborn and the mighty Snowhammer of the Stormcloaks to boot. If she killed this man for his stupidity and tasteless manners she would be cast out, if not even punished with death or imprisonment.

“Iniethe, please, let’s talk about this…” Ralof stepped warningly between the unusually small altmer and the now fearful soldier. The elfs façade cracked as she sneered at him, throwing a mean punch straight in his gut.

“Call me Thalmor again and I will bleed you like I did that gutless pig of a Justicar in Markarth!” She hissed at the soldier behind the now doubled over Ralof. He backed up several paces at that and visibly paled as he stared into her almost blackened eyes. Her features where twisted in a faceless fury he had seldom seen and he was sure it would haunt him to his grave.

“Demon!” He managed to splutter as he backed away further and in response Iniethe’s features split in a wide devilish grin that had the soldier stop breathing.

“You have no idea, little human…” the words purred out of her throat before morphing into a menacing chuckle devoid of any life.

Ralof was pathetically clinging to her arm in a vain attempt to stay her anger while he was still gasping for breath. _“Damn, she’s strong as a giant…!”_ he thought and was thankful she didn’t seem interested in pursuing the fleeing soldier. He was in no position to stop her if she did.

“Maybe someone should tell them what really happened in Markarth? To get em off your back I mean?” Ralof ground out breathlessly as he tried to right himself.

She looked at him like he had gone completely mad for a moment before she shrugged and ventured back into her tent.

“It doesn’t bother me what they think, so long as they do not call me a Thalmor.” she muttered bitterly and stifled a yawn. Back to her own grumpy self in a matter of moments after wanting to rip someones throat out. She was really good at that but she couldn’t fool Ralof. He had been around her far too much and knew she was itching for an outlet.

“Well at least let me spar with you to let off some steam before you kill half the camp in a fit of rage…” Ralof sighed, shaking his head. The sheer number of rumors going around about Iniethe was staggering and half of them were less than flattering ones. The rumors calling her every insulting thing one could think of but the only thing that ever seemed to raise her ire to the point of boiling over was that one little word “Thalmor”. She had stood face to face with several Nords spitting insults straight in her face without batting an eye but touch upon the subject of her being connected to her kinsmen in any way and she went batshit crazy in the blink of an eye.

While waiting for Iniethe to prepare for a sparing-session he drew on memories of their time together at his sisters in Riverwood after the cock-up in Helgen;

_"You should go to Windhelm, to join the fight for Skyrim." Ralof said as he opened the door to the homey little cottage his sister called home. He looked expectantly, or maybe even hopefully over to Iniethe. She had noticed him doing that a lot over the last couple of days but he could tell she couldn't fathom why. She paused her shoving of food into her mouth to look at him._

_Chew, chew, drink, swallow._

_"Yea, that was the plan. Until those milk drinking sons of horkers decided to end my life for my apparent audacity to walk past your camp..." Iniethe said, glowering at him while shoving another piece of soup-drenched bread into her mouth. She never let her stern gaze fall from his as she chewed and swallowed the mouthful. It wasn't his fault but he couldn’t blame her for still being angry for having her life toyed with, and to her defense, he was the closest person she had to vent her anger at._

_"Still can't believe they would risk killing a Thalmo..." a bowl suddenly whooshed past Ralof's ear at dangerously high speed, splitting apart with a loud crack that had lukewarm soup splash everywhere. Most of it landed on the floor - for which Ralof was grateful - but a few splashes of it hit him in the face and a few others soaked his traveling clothes. Confused and even a bit irritated he looked back towards the elf while making vain attempts to wipe himself off. When he met her eyes he swallowed thickly. Iniethe was standing up, leaning her weight on the table and obviously furious. It was as if light itself fled her proximity as her normally silverish eyes had turned almost black and were now spitting daggers the size of mammoth tusks his way._

_If looks could kill Ralof was sure he'd be dead ten times over in the blink of an eye._

_"Call me that one more time and you will wish for death long before I grant it to you!" The words were spat out like they tasted of putrid acid and Ralof made a mental note to make sure that no one he wished to live ever called this elf a Thalmor._

_A moment of thick silence passed between the two and Ralof couldn't help but wonder how one could come to hate their own kin with such a fierce passion. He had tried to get Iniethe to talk to him during her stay in Riverwood. He coaxed her to open up and let him get to know her but she always remained stubbornly quiet or annoyingly evasive. The only time he'd seen a genuine reaction instead of her usual careful study of grumpy neutrality, was when he had tumbled headlong into the river to avoid getting squished under a runaway log from his sisters lumber mill. Iniethe's face had split into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen before her laughter rung out clear and silvery across the mill. She was always beautiful but with that warm happy smile gracing her features, she was radiant._

_"So maybe I will see you at Windhelm after all, hmm?" Ralof's eyes had been hopeful but his smile almost smug as he collected himself to leave once more. The smile spread to his eyes and was warm and full of fondness as Iniethe without further fuss, sat down, grunted her assent and continued shoving what was left of her lunch into her mouth._

_“Curious little altmer this one.”_ Ralof thought to himself as he followed her outside, picking up a shield and a sword on the way to the clearing they used as a makeshift sparring-area.

\--

Ralof watched Iniethe swing that huge dual-handed ebony katana of hers and couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene. She was so tiny and the sword almost as long as she, but still she managed to swing it with a precision that would have half the Nord population turn green with envy.

He deflected her blow with his shield. Refraining from parrying head on out of fear the power behind the blow would splinter his shield and instead opting for spinning the blow away from him while he spun the other way. The sweat was trickling down her brow just as fervently as it did on his and around the little clearing of the Haafingar Camp most of the present soldiers had gathered to watch their scuffle with interest. Even the soldier who was initially the cause of the elfs anger was there, hidden furthest in the back of all the onlookers.

The ire in the elf had slowly subsided as Ralof took the full on assault from her without backing down. Most people became sloppy when they were angry but Iniethe didn’t. Instead she became stronger and even more ruthless than usual. Not hesitating to use dirty tactics to get to where she wanted to be. He had his hands full keeping up with her until she calmed down enough to fall into a friendly spar instead of a brutal battle of life and death.

Many of his friends and fellow soldiers had often told him he was nuts to go up against the pissed of altmer but he was the only one, so far, that was able - or even willing to. And to protect Iniethe from herself he risked his life gladly. He knew she wouldn’t care if she got thrown out of the Stormcloaks. She wouldn’t even care if she became wanted on all sides, but _he_ cared. Not only did they need her to win this war. He also found he personally would rather not be without her.

She was grumpy, ruthless and had a blatant disregard for any authority. But if you managed to get her loyal, she was loyal to a fault and would do anything – including sell her own body and maybe even her soul – to see her mission through.

\--

They had been at it for quite some time and the darkness had already begun spreading its blanket around them when the sparring ended. Iniethe finally caught her Ebony Blade upon Ralof’s shield, knocking him quite spectacularly up in the air and onto his rear end. He laughed slightly as he picked himself up and looked over to the now smirking elf. The soldiers around them cheered and whistled in approval and soon the air rung with the soldiers’ rowdy chants; _“Snowhammer”._

He didn’t mind being knocked around and ending up on his ass as long as the heavy hostile air of the camp was dispelled and people was reminded of the importance of the elf rather than getting submerged in all those malicious rumors about her.

“Let’s clean ourselves of.” The altmer said unabashed and seemingly uncaring of their anatomic differences as she patted him his shoulder with one of those rare grins she sometimes produced that always seemed to daze people around her.

He found himself wondering again why she didn’t smile more often.

\--

After climbing down the steep path to the south of the camp to reach the river, Ralof stood hesitating on the riverbank as he watched Iniethe shed her sparring-armor. Most women left their loincloth and breast band but Iniethe wasn’t most women. He tried to hide the fact that he was completely mesmerized by her actions but he was quite sure his fumbling with his own armor was a rather telling sign of his fluster.

The raven black hair of the mer was loose from its usual braid and fell in thick waves down to the small of her back as she waded out into the river, avoiding the deepest water with the strongest currents. She squatted down to clean herself while he stood ogling her tiny but muscular frame from the shallows. Gods have mercy. He didn't know how he would ever stay sane around her after this.

A telling tingle from a particular part of him made him flush bright red and hurry to squat down in the cold waters to hide and quench his bodily urges. He knew well that even if the rumors about Iniethe insisted her to be light-footed, she was anything but. Anyone who had approached her, as far as he knew, had gotten a very rude awakening. After the battle of Whiterun he had seen her shout a man across their camp for his audacity to suggest he fill her bed. Another soldier had been beaten within an inch of his life for the same reason and it had taken Ralof almost all his patience and charm to get the mer to heal the man. Had she not he would most likely have been scarred for life.

He shuddered at what she would do if she found out about his indecent thoughts and focused on cleaning himself up, willing his erection to oblivion.

A splashing sound of someone moving through water snapped the Nord out of his thoughts and made him tense up. He curled in on himself to hide the still telling part of his anatomy while he tried to look like he wasn’t bothered by the elfs closing proximity.

“Ralof…” her velvety voice carried a question that had him tense even more and he was questioning his own sanity by the time two slender but rough hands wandered their way from his shoulderblades to his neck.

He couldn’t find his voice to do more than grunt in response and he hardly dared to breathe where he sat frozen in the cold shallow water. Was he dreaming?

“I still need to blow off steam…” he shivered as her voice vibrated just a hairsbreadth away from his ear. He felt her hands trail down his chest and sucked in a sharp breath as her lean warm body pressed up against his back. This was really happening, right?

Ralof remained frozen on the spot while he warily watched the elf come around to face him. He knew her well enough to know she could be cruel in her jokes and he wasn’t about to make a move that could cost him their friendship. Though he couldn’t deny that his heart was hammering so hard in his chest he was sure they could hear him all the way to Sovngard. The moment she sat on her knees in front of him, however, her eyes disclosed everything he needed to know. She wanted him. At least for tonight and that was more than he could ever had hoped for. He wouldn’t toss away an opportunity like this because it might never come again.

Raising one hand to cup her neck he leaned in to finally claim those full dark golden lips that he had dreamed of for so long. And he felt his heart nearly stop at the warmth of her pliant lips against his. His breath stuttered as her soft lips molded eagerly against his, pleading with him for more.

Iniethe toppled him effortlessly backwards and draped herself across his sprawled naked body without breaking their kiss. Her hands roamed his chest down to his hips as she insisted in a deepening of their kiss. Ralof gave himself to his needs and fisted one hand in those impish, now wet, black locks of hers while the other hand trailed her curves down to her bottom. He kissed her like his life depended on it. Every ounce of passion and feelings he had pent up for the tiny mer on top of him, he poured into that first kiss and happily felt her respond.

He gasped in surprise as the elfs hands found his straining length between them. Not that he minded but he would rather loose himself inside her than have her hands, however trained they were, do the job for them. He rolled them over in the shallow water, hardly registering the chill in the water nor the sharp rocks in the riverbed. Grabbing her arms he forced them away from his sex and pinned her under him as he tasted her skin down to her small but perky breasts. While he stayed to play with her sensitive mounds, suckling and nipping, enjoying the sounds that ripped their way out of the tiny altmer. He let one hand trail down towards her core.

As his thumb brushed over her hipbone he felt her buck up against him, apparently already getting anxious he noticed to his own amusement. Just to tease her he drew slow circles around her hipbone for a moment before trailing his fingers down her thigh to position it like he wanted. By the time he ghosted his fingers along her already slick folds she was whimpering and almost vibrating under him. He let one finger slip past her folds to explore her sex with excruciating carefulness that had the mer growl at him. Her short fingernails cut into his shoulderblades and her entire body was tense as a bowstring when his finger finally reached the anticipated destination. She mewled his name within moments of him circling the nub with his fingers and judging by the hot slickness and the sounds the mer was producing he gathered she was more than ready for him.

Ralof didn’t waste time to line himself up to the welcoming core of the demanding woman beneath him while again claiming her lips in a bruising kiss. As he breached her womanhood he eagerly swallowed every moan erupting from the eager mer. He grunted with every harsh slow thrust Iniethe met with a snap of her slight hips. Every time he hit the walls of her womb he heard her gasp and tense in appreciation. Her inner walls was clamping down on him like a vise and threatened to make him loose his head. Struggling, he kept the pace slower than he would have liked while he strew kisses onto the golden perky mounds of the mer again. One hand trailing down to her nub to tease while he enjoyed the sounds erupting from the progressively more frantic elf writhing underneath him.

He drew lazy circles around her nub until she was begging him to increase the pace. Never in his life would he have thought he would hear the proud altmer beg for anything. But there she was, looking at him through half lidded eyes, filled with an almost desperate plea while begging him to come undone with her. All thoughts of carefulness and tact dissipated from his brain as the more primal part of him took over to please the woman he was claiming.

He brazed himself on both arms and drove in harsh enough to make her cry out and hold onto him for purchase. The pace increased fast as Ralof lost himself in the feeling and pleasured sounds of the mer underneath him. She clung to him, praised him and thanked every god he had ever heard of and then some. And in response he raised himself to his knees and took a hold of the slight mer’s golden hips to keep up the harsh pace she seemed to demand of him.

He was inches away from losing himself to his high when he felt her body tense up, her walls closed around his already sensitive and rock hard length like a snare around its prey. With a grunt he felt himself tumble over the edge of his high. His sight blurred and he was only vaguely aware of his name echoing around the valley. He felt the spasm of Iniethe’s core milking him as he spilled into her warmth and it made him moan as he lowered himself to her warmth again. Blindly lavishing her neck and cheeks with kisses before capturing her swollen lips in a lazy kiss as they came down from their high.

He didn’t want to part from her, didn’t want to return to the real world again but the goosebumps forming on the mer’s soft golden skin drew him abruptly back to reality. They were still laying in the shallow waters of the river and though their passion had blinded them to the temperature of the water, it was now becoming evident that it was cold. Too cold to be even the least bit comfortable. He shuddered and wondered how the mer had been able to lay so unaffected for so long in the frigid waters.

He kissed her one more time before getting up and offered his hand to help her to her feet. They dressed during a comfortable silence and Iniethe healed the myriad of cuts they have gotten during their little tryst. Getting back to camp was a simple thing with the mer leading the way with her magelight. But once back at camp soldiers where avoiding them like the plague and Ralof realized to his own horror that their encounter had been anything but quiet and discrete. He looked over at Iniethe in an almost panic but she only smirked and slapped his ass before disappearing into her tent.

Ralof couldn’t help but feeling a little used at the abrupt ending to their encounter. He had almost managed to fool himself to think he’d be invited to spend the remainder of the night warming her bed but it seemed she as usual didn’t want anything more than a quick release. Glumly he walked towards his own tent and tried not to look as dejected as he felt. The soldier that had started Iniethe’s ire earlier that day was sitting by the fire, sulking and looking like he wanted to be swallowed up by the earth at the mere sight of Ralof. And suddenly everything fit perfectly into place.

She had used him to shut the entire camp up once and for all. She had granted him his naïve wish for the opportunity to get every Stormcloak present off her back. He knew her and her ruthless ways and he shouldn’t be surprised to find this out, but it still stung like a poison dart.

**Author's Note:**

> I have recieved some wonderings about "What about "poor" Ulfric!?" Well don't you worry you pretty little heads dearies! He is not forgotten and will not be booted out anytime soon. BUT, do keep in mind that Iniethe is not a sweet, fluff-loving of person. She is an asshole by many standards, ruled by nothing - save her ambition to kill every last Thalmor she can get her hands on - and she is often driven by money or sinister motives. 
> 
> Any relationship with her is bound to be more than a little bumpy and complicated =P
> 
> Her reasoning might not always be clear or even logical. Hell, not even I, her creator, know exactly what her intensions are at all times! xD But she is the Dragonborn so she has at least a modicum of honor hidden deep down in the darkest recesses of her soul, though she would probably swallow a bucket of nails before admiting that xD
> 
> Keep an eye out if you want more Ulfric vs Iniethe. There will be more, both smut and drama. 
> 
> Cheers!


End file.
